


Wounded Lips, Salted Cheeks

by ElatedFangirl



Category: GOT7, K-pop
Genre: Angst, Drabble, M/M, Top!Mark, bottom!Jackson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 01:51:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14945384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElatedFangirl/pseuds/ElatedFangirl
Summary: Shame is to be felt when the act is done.





	Wounded Lips, Salted Cheeks

His head hit the wall but he gave it no attention. All he can feel now is the heat that enveloped his body.

Hands were on his cheeks. Lips were on his lips. Bodies molded into one. Languid movements were made. Tongues connected and battled; hands roamed, gripped and clutched. Kisses were littered, marks were left. Hips thrusted, heads thrown back. 

Possession. He was the other's possession. He is his. All of him is the other's for the taking. Whether he is to be used, loved cared or possessed, he didn't care. As long as he is his. The tears that will fall after are to be wiped away, to be forgotten because once and for all, he agreed to this. He agreed to be taken without expecting anything in return.

Loud moans can be heard, heavy pants then followed. Thin sweat hugged every contour of the bodies. Hands gripped shoulder blades; names were screamed, chanted as a mantra.

"M-mark," came Jackson's voice, stuttering not with fear but with pleasure. His back pushed down the mattress as he was being pounded. His knees wrapped around waist; hands gripped and scratched, leaving marks on shoulder blades and on the expanse of a back. "Ma-" lips silenced him. Tongue tangled with his.

The bed creaked beneath two bodies. The two oblivious of their surroundings, only focusing on the heaven they have brought themselves. Groans and moans replaced mewls and whimpers.

The bed continued to creak, signifying the shameful act above it. Shame is to be felt when the act is done. Tears are to fall but are to be wiped away. Feelings are to be neglected, not to be felt but left in the gutters to die out.

Obscene skin slapping skin noise can be heard. Crude sucking noise aiding the other noise, preventing silence to penetrate. Because silence entails questions. Questions both of them refuse to answer. Questions they would neglect just like the feelings because those questions would always be about feelings and it is best to neglect them and let them die out too.

Kisses were littered, more marks were left. Bites were executed, lips were wounded. Blood trickled, sweat poured. Names were called, screamed and panted, bodies were eager to reach ecstacy, a feeling more delicious than what is being felt.

Thrusts were deeper and faster and names were chanted louder. The bed continued creaking underneath.

Bodies slumped, heavy breathes were taken after ecstacy was reached.

The body on top rolled and got off the bed. Showers turned to life, water splashed on the floor. Rustling came, fidgeting of clothes followed. The click of the door was heard and along the fainting footsteps, a bang echoed.

No matter how one tries to neglect feelings, one never could. And so lips were continuously wounded and cheeks continuously salted.

 


End file.
